


His Knight of Flowers

by Lhugy_for_short



Series: A Song of Light and Demons (FFXV Game of Thrones AU) [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Drama, Fluff, Game of Thrones AU, Jousting, Lewd puns, Light Angst, M/M, Ser Ignis Knight of Flowers, excessive flirting, prince Noctis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 12:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13502008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: Noctis has spent years shunning the title of Prince. He has no desire to claim his seat on the Iron Throne, and is content to waste his days away between festivals and wine. Until, that is, he meets a knight with dreams of his own - dreams that involve seeing his beloved lord rise to power as a benevolent King.





	His Knight of Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> For somnus-ultiima on Tumblr, who won my giveaway! The prompt was for "angst + fluffy ending Ignoct" but this got waaayyy out of control ;D Hope you like it, dear! 
> 
> This is part of a larger GoT AU I'm (slowly) working on. You can read the [Promptio side here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11310105)

_ Prince _ .

How many times had he been called that in his life? Hundreds? Thousands? More, maybe, in the eighteen years since he’d been born - unwillingly - into the Lucis Caelum name. His grandfather, Mors, had been the King of Eos once, and he supposed that did technically make him a prince of some sort or another. But as things stood, he was hovering at fourth in line for the Iron Throne with absolutely zero ambition to climb any higher. 

Which suited the Nox Fleurets’ just fine, of course. As the richest family in all of Eos, marrying into the line of kings had been the next step towards domination of the entire continent. Noctis’ father, Regis, had rewed after his first wife’s untimely death, and the two children Lady Sylva brought into Insomnia were far more suited to the royal court than him.

To the contrary, Noct was hardly interested in fancy banquets and entertaining foreign emissaries.  _ Ruling _ seemed like far too much work, especially when there was growing talk of dissention from both the northern territories and the free lands to the south. The whispers on everyone’s lips seemed to be of war, of shadows, and of the coming of a long, cold winter. Not the time, Noct decided, to be getting mixed up in the politics of the city. 

But while he often rejected the title of “prince,” he didn’t completely shun the luxuries of his noble life, either. The pockets of the Lucis Caelum coffers ran deep, as did the influence of his family’s name. It allowed him, for example, to hold festivals on the grounds of Longwythe Peak, where he had been granted lordship. The land was dry, dusty like the rest of Leide, and good for little else but outdoor entertainment: duels, races, and Noct’s personal favorite sport,  _ jousting _ . 

Once a season, he invited knights and riders from around the kingdom to participate in his tournaments, and the winners were always well-compensated for their trouble. In fact, the prize money from the last event - a whopping seventy-thousand gil - had earned such a reputation that knights from as far away as Lestallum and even Tenebrae had signed up to join the next bout. Guests, too, had poured in from near and far, including some rather high-profile faces: Ardyn “Chancellor” Izunia, a brothel owner and gossip-maker from Insomnia; Lord and Lady Ulric from Galahd in the North; and even Cor Leonis, a knight in the service of Noctis’ father and sometimes called “the Immortal” - a mockery of the terrible scars he’d borne on his face since childhood.  

It was no small wonder why Leonis had come. After all, his half-brother, and the very same person who had nearly cleaved his skull open at the age of five, was rumored to be participating in the tournament, as well; Titus Drautos, better known to those unfortunate enough to cross his path as  _ Glauca _ , “the Mountain,” a man as sturdy and fearsome as the Adamantine peaks of old. Noctis had never met him in person, but he knew better than to underestimate anyone who made Cor Leonis cower in fear. No doubt his presence at the games would make things...interesting. 

As the morning of the tournament broke, Longwythe came alive with energy. The festival grounds brought color to the otherwise monotonous plains: flags of yellows and pinks; booths and food stands painted to draw the eye of hungry patrons; banners of more Houses and Holds than Noctis even knew existed, held up on proud display by bright-eyed young squires.

In the hours before the jousting itself was set to begin, Noct strolled the grounds merely enjoying the festivities. It was easy to lose himself in the crowd, to blend in and forget - for a time - the titles, the duties, the  _ chore _ of being someone everyone else considered important. Here, he was just  _ Noct _ , the young lord who loved skewers and sweet wine, and whose blue eyes shone with as much excitement as a child’s beneath his curtain of black hair. In fact, his mood only lightened as he made his way towards the stables behind the arena, and the sounds of the Dire Birds rose up to greet him.

Noctis loved Chocobos. He’d loved them even since he was a young boy, and his mother had taken him riding from time to time out in the countryside. But the same Merilith attack that took Aulea’s life had also left him grievously injured, and according to the maesters, his back was no longer fit for the mount. 

Still, he found comfort amongst the stables and pens, and always looked forward to seeing the birds in action during the bouts. 

Already that morning, the chocobos were worked up, warking and flapping their wings in excitement as Noct stepped under the awning. No doubt they could already sense the energy, the tension building within the arena. He’d expected as much, and yet he was still surprised to find that he wasn’t the only one to have made his way to the stables. 

There was another man there, about two stalls from the far end, tall and fair and dressed in tight leather riding breeches. His shirt, a loose white tunic embroidered with the sylleblossom blue of Tenebrae, was open from the collar down to his waist, where it was fastened under a thick belt. 

He was, in a word,  _ ravishing _ . Hair too dark to belong to House Nox Fleuret, but far too well-dressed for a squire. A knight, then, was Noct’s guess, come to tend to his mount before the start of the games. But who was he? Surely Noct would have remembered if such a beautiful face had graced his halls before. 

The chance to find out came sooner than he expected, when the man turned and favored him with a smile. “Ah, now this is a surprise,” he said in a voice like honey and ginger. “Hardly the place one would expect to run into a prince.”

Noctis shrugged. Clearly the man recognized him, which put him at somewhat of a disadvantage. Pensively, he stroked his fingers over downy feathers even as he edged closer to the nameless knight. “I guess. I was under the impression princes could go anywhere they pleased.”

“Of course, my lord.” As Noct watched, the corner of the other’s mouth curled up in a playful, almost cocky smile. “But one should be more careful. I nearly mistook you for a stable boy.”

_ In the name of the Six,  _ that should  _ not _ have sent tremors down his spine. Yet there he stood, eyes growing wider as a blush began to turn the color of his cheeks. In part, it was the lilting melody of that honeyed voice, but Noct could hardly deny the thrill that he felt at the words, as well. Was this knight  _ trying _ to fluster him? And did he realize it was working? “R-right,” Noct replied, turning toward a bird to hide his reddened face. “I can see how you might make that mistake.”

He didn’t hear the man approach. Upon silent footfalls he drew near enough to reach out towards him, then past him to grasp the reigns of the chocobo’s bridle. The knight gave a skilled tug and suddenly the bird was moving at his command, sweeping its large head over Noctis and bowing down low over the gate of the stall. It let out a series of soft, happy warks as the knight stroked dexterous fingers through her plumage. 

“Do you ride well, Prince Noctis?”

The sound he made in the back of his throat was almost easy to mistake for a cough. “H-hm? Oh! Er, no. Yes. I used to,” he finished quickly as green eyes twinkled in amusement. Still, he saw an opening and went for it. "And you, Ser…?"

"Ignis, of House Scientia. Apologies for my lapse in manners."

_ Scientia…?!  _ Noctis’ shock must have been obvious on his face, but there was no hiding it. The Scientia’s were famous - some might even say notorious - throughout Eos for their wealth and influence in the academic spheres. Some of history’s greatest maesters had been born of their House. And while their fortune still paled in comparison to that of the Nox Fleurets, they had loaned their fair share of  wealth to the Crown over the years. 

But it wasn’t only the knight’s family that had earned a name for itself. Ignis’ reputation, too, preceded him. “You’re the one they call the Knight of Flowers. I heard you defeated an entire outpost of Magitek Troopers near Myrlwood.”

“Not on my own, of course,” Ignis laughed.

“Well. You’re not at all how I imagined.”

Fingers still drawing contented trills from his mount’s beak, the knight cast Noctis a questioning look. His eyes, greener than any emeralds the prince had ever seen, shone with a playful light, and his hair as he swept it from his face had Noct’s breath catching somewhere in his throat. “Is that so, my lord? How had you imagined me, then, if I am to believe I’ve had the honor to grace your thoughts.”

_ Ohh, he was good.  _ At least now Noctis knew the tales of the ‘Scientia Silver Tongue’ were very much true. He chewed his lip for a moment before answering. “You’re younger than I’d expected. With fewer wrinkles and grey hairs.” As expected, those summer green irises flickered suspiciously up toward his hairline. Noct continued with a growing smirk of his own. “More beautiful, too. If not for your riding gear I might have mistaken you for a consort.” 

_ That _ certainly had Ignis’ full attention. Something danced across his expression - amusement? Interest? - before he carefully hid it away and instead bowed his head. “You flatter me, Your Grace,” he purred, and Noct didn’t miss the subtle play of obeisance even as the distance between them began to close. “I suppose several of my  _ acquaintances _ back in Tenebrae have...rubbed off on me.” 

One heartbeat passed.

Two. 

A third, before at last Noct could contain himself no longer. He fell against Ignis’ chest as laughter bubbled up, rare and sweet and filling the air of the stables as easily as wine filling a glass. The knight, too, was laughing, though he seemed more intent on lacing his arms around the prince who had fallen into them than humoring his own joke. 

It was several moments before Noct realized just how close he suddenly found himself to the Knight of Flowers - but by then, he was already certain he didn’t want to pull away. Blushing above a shy smile, he let his fingers curl in the fabric of Ignis’ shirt and breathed in the scent of lilacs and sylleblossoms. “I think I’ve picked a favorite for the tournament today,” he grinned.

Above him, and close enough to make out the hint of pink on high cheekbones, Ignis smiled. “Allow me the honor of riding in your name, Your Grace. As tribute to you, and motivation to defeat my opponents.” 

“The prize money isn’t enough?”

When Ignis chuckled, Noct could feel it rumbling in his own chest. “I don’t  _ need _ money. But perhaps, if the prize were something far more valuable than gil….” His voice trailed off, but his meaning was far from lost on the prince. Ignis’ fingers traveled over to his hip, ghosted up his side and along the length of his arm to his elbow. Noctis shivered, swallowed, and leaned in a little closer. Finding his next words took considerable effort.

“I accept. Uh, both of those. The riding and the….” 

“Riding.”

“R-right. Thank you.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, Your Grace.” This time, the knight’s fingers curled around Noct’s own against his chest, and slowly drew them up to his lips. A kiss was pressed in fealty to his knuckles, then a softer, more private one brushed over the tips. Noctis had the sudden and desperate urge to slide them past and into the warmth of Ignis’ mouth. “I swear to bring honor and glory to your name on the field of battle.”

“It’s only a game,” the prince reminded him, though his voice was noticeably more airy than it had been moments before. “Just try not to get hurt out there today.”

“With you watching? Not a chance.”

He continued to clasp Noctis’ hand in his as he dipped into a bow, his emerald eyes locked on deep blue. Noct didn’t want to let him go. Perhaps he never would have if not for the sudden blowing of a horn from the arena. The call signalled the opening of the day’s games, and summoned both jousters and spectators to take their places quickly. It was with reluctance that the prince retrieved his hand, breaking contact in the process, and wished Ser Ignis the favor of the gods in his bouts. 

"The Six have already shown me their favor today," came the half-purred reply, leaving Noct weak at the knees as he watched his Knight of Flowers pass out into the sunlit morning. 

Under the shadow of Longwythe Peak, the massive, rocky crag for which the land earned its name, the nobles had begun to take their seats. Four tiers of benches divided into three wings served as the gallery; the middle section was reserved for the guests of importance, and was cushioned and covered by a colorful overhang of cloth. 

As the host of the festivities, Noctis would sit in the very center, with an unobstructed view of the list field. He’d be able to see both jousters clearly as they made their passes along the tilt, and determine the winner at the end of every match. It was usually a task he took to with great excitement for the sport itself - but today, he would be waiting and watching through a different set of eyes. Today, he would be watching Ser Ignis, and Ser Ignis alone. 

All told, there were sixteen knights participating in the tournament that day, mostly from minor Houses around the kingdom. Young squires hustled about in the moments before the start of the first match. Noctis didn’t know these two combatants personally, but the other nobles were quick to place bets on one name or the other. Chocobos were walked about on leads to warm up their legs; the knights were fitted into their armor, the metal plates hot and glittering in the early afternoon sun. Lances were weighed and tested, and at last, preparation finished, the bout was ready to begin. At the call, the two knights rode out along the rope fence, bowed their heads in a show of sportsmanship, and took their places at either end of the list.

The crowd fell silent in anticipation. Another call of the horn and the jousters’ birds were spurred into motion, kicking up dust as they charged forward along the length of the center tilt. Both knights lowered their shields in tandem, aimed the tips of their lances forward, and the sound of splintering wood was soon echoing across the field. 

Determined on the first pass, the match was over almost as quickly as it had begun. The victor bowed to the crowd, and both knights were escorted back to the stable yard to make way for the next round. Excitement rose and fell as the jousting waged on and the bouts became more fierce. Cheering exploded the moment first blood was spilled, red and thick between the plates of an unlucky knight, and it was clear that the  _ true  _ entertainment had begun. 

It was just as the injured man was being dragged off the field that Noctis’ attention shifted again. From the left, a new knight was taking up position at the list, his armor a bright, shining silver, and his hair glowing almost blond in the sunlight. Noct recognized him right away, as did his heart as it leapt clear up into his throat.  _ Ignis!  _ At last, the bout he’d been waiting for had come. He followed Ignis’ gaze to the far end of the list field, where his fearsome opponent was stalking towards his mount. 

Instantly, Noct’s heart sunk again. 

Titus Drautos.  _ Glauca _ . The Mountain. It seemed Ignis’ luck had run out. A veritable powerhouse of a man with a distaste for any and all things that didn’t involve violence, he was built as thick as two men, and his muscles bulged even beneath his dark chainmail. Noct had seen the Mountain fight before, both on the battlefield and off, and he suddenly had the desperate urge to call off the tournament before his Knight of Flowers could be hurt. 

“Jousters, present!” 

The horn was blown before Noct could find his voice. Both Ignis and Drautos raised their lances to the crowd, then spurred their birds forward to canter down the length of the tilt. As they met in the center, Ignis bowed low to his opponent, but  _ Glauca _ did no such thing in return. The large knight merely flipped down the visor of his helm and rode past, leaving the crowd to gasp in feigned dismay while Ignis, smirking, continued onward to his post. 

Tension settled over the entire field. To Noct’s right, Cor Leonis sat in bitter silence, his knuckles having gone white where he held his fists clenched in his lap. It seemed he, too, was eager to see the Mountain fall. 

Another blow of the horn signalled the start of the match. Ignis uttered something to his bird and it took off, wings tucked in close and head ducked low to make room for the lance. Across the field, the Mountain kicked his mount into a similar position, though it strained visibly under his weight and out of fear. The two knights careened toward one another, shields held fast and neither backing down, until they met in a thundering crash at the center of the list. Yet both riders continued past - their lances had deflected, and neither had been knocked from the saddle of their birds. The match continued to a second pass. 

The knights rounded the end of the tilt and resumed positions. At the sounding of the horn, they charged forward once more, and Noctis found himself leaning against the railing with bated breath. Both Ignis and  _ Glauca _ were moving fast, the sound of their mounts’ feet drumming like a battle hymn across the ground. They were going to meet - Noctis clenched his fingers around the wood and tried not to scream. 

But Ignis, unlike his opponent, was more than just brawn and force. At the last second he turned his shield, catching  _ Glauca’s _ lance at an angle he hadn’t been expecting, and the coronel dug into the wood for a moment before losing traction and slipping off harmlessly. Ignis’ lance, on the other hand, hit dead-on; the tip shattered, sending splinters of wood in an explosion around them both, and throwing the Mountain off balance. All it took was his bird rearing up, frightened as it was by the sudden clash, to unseat him completely. He hit the ground in a clattering of armor and expletives. 

Noctis’ breath left him at once. He felt too light, elated and overjoyed and yet wanted nothing more than to run out into the field to celebrate at Ignis’ side. The Knight of Flowers was raising his broken lance in victory, bowing and waving at the cheering crowd as his squires helped him down from his chocobo. 

With all eyes on Ignis, no one saw the Mountain getting back up to his feet. No one saw him yank the sword from his own squire’s hip, or swing the blade viciously out of its sheath. In fact, it wasn’t until he struck out, barely missing his mount and snapping the rope of the tilt instead on the downswing, that the crowd once again fell quiet. 

“You!”  _ Glauca  _ jeered, ripping off his helmet and whirling on Ignis. “Cheating bastard!” 

Even from the gallery, Noct didn’t miss the shadow of offense pass across Ignis’ face. “I’ve done no such thing. There is no rule against the use of strategy.” 

“This isn’t finished!” Striding across the list toward him, the Mountain raised his sword. “Fight me!”

Ignis was unarmed. His squires had all retreated, leaving him defenseless as that heavy blade came down, missing him by mere inches as he dove out of the way. He hit the dirt and whirled just as a second attack came. “Enough!” he cried, rolling again just out of the path of the blade. “You’re mad!” The Mountain didn’t respond. His face was a mask of rage as he gripped his sword, this time kicking out first to catch Ignis square in the chest and send him sprawling back into the dirt. 

Though it all happened in the space of a few seconds, to Noct it seemed to take place in one long, stretched-out moment. Helplessly, he watched in terror as Ignis was knocked down, and as the Mountain raised his weapon again to strike. His heart stopped in his chest as his watched his knight throw an arm up in useless defense, and knew from the angle that the blade was aimed to kill. He screamed as it started to come down - a solemn death sentence - but his voice was lost in the shocked gasps of the crowd. 

For at that moment, a shadow had moved, hard and fast as a strike of lightning. It raced across the field toward the two knights, and as  _ Glauca’s _ sword arced down another suddenly rose up to meet it. 

Cor Leonis had caught his half-brother’s blade against the guard of his pommel. With his own body, he shielded the fallen knight, and he used the momentum of surprise to throw  _ Glauca _ off guard. He pushed him up and off, staggering him back until there was room for them both to fully swing their swords. 

As they circled one another, the Mountain growled. “What are you doing here,  _ cub _ ? Come to get another pretty scar on that face of yours?” 

“I’m here to stop you,” Cor answered flatly, his feet moving steadily through the dirt. 

_ Glauca _ very nearly laughed. Never one for useless words, he lunged forward without warning, thrusting his blade right for Cor’s chest. It was parried, countered, and the two fell into a rapid exchange of violent blows. Metal clanged and grunts echoed across the field, and in the chaos Noctis at last found his footing. He jumped over the edge of the railing and raced out, past the two fighters to where Ignis still lay winded on the ground. 

“Ignis, Ignis get up,” he said as he dropped to his side and began to drag him off the field. “You have to move.” 

The knight reacted slowly. There was blood on his face beneath his helm, not much but enough to indicate that the kick he’d received had been brutal. He seemed to have trouble focusing his eyes on Noct’s face, though he still managed to smile up at him as the sounds of the clash grew further away. 

“My hero,” he chuckled. 

More figures had poured onto the field. It took half a dozen men to finally pull Cor and Drautos apart, but by that time they were both drenched in sweat and trembling with rage. The Mountain threw his sword to the ground, glaring as he spit at the other’s feet, then cast off the men who held him to storm instead off the field. For now, the fighting was over. 

Ignis found it easier to stand once his armor was peeled off. Though he clutched his arm over his chest, he still accepted Noct’s help to walk, to make his way to where Cor stood in solemn silence, his own sword limp at his side. 

“Ser Leonis,” he called to him and smiled. “You have saved my life, and earned the gratitude of my House. I owe you a great debt this day.” 

Cor turned to him and shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

Taken aback, Ignis exchanged looks with Noctis, then tried again. “Ser, if you would allow me the honor of -- “

“I said forget it. Thank me when he’s dead.” Without another word, Cor Leonis sheathed his sword and stalked off the field, in the opposite direction of his brother and away from the festivities. It took a moment for the crowd to recover. But at last Ignis was congratulated one again on his victory, and in the midst of celebration was taken off to see the maesters in their tent. 

Noctis, of course, followed at his side. 

Aside from some large bruises and a cut near his scalp, he turned out to be otherwise unharmed. The maesters bound his chest with cloth and cleaned his wounds, set him in a small bed and gave him a draught of herbs to help him rest. No one dared question the prince who was determined to stay with him through the night. And so they left, closing the flap behind them and allowing Noct and Ignis the full privacy of the tent. 

Neither one seemed to want to speak first. Green eyes sought out deep blue, and Noct reached down to take the knight’s hand in his. They both smiled, though fleeting, and Noct debated the risks of leaning down to kiss him before the peaceful moment could be lost. But Ignis moved first, drawing not Noct’s mouth but his fingers up to meet his lips. 

“Your Grace,” he sighed, kissing each of the tips in turn. “I’m sorry for failing you today.”

Blushing, and unconcerned with hiding it, Noct shook his head. “What do you mean? You were amazing out there. You defeated the Mountain, I’ve never seen him lose before.” 

“I couldn’t finish the tournament. Injuries are disqualifying.” 

“Hey.” Eyes smiling, the prince settled onto his knees next to the bed. He was close enough to brush the rogue locks of hair from Ignis’ face, taking care with his wound, and let his hand linger atop his cheek.  _ So warm. So beautiful.  _ “I’m the judge, and if I say you won out there today, then you did. Name your prize, and whatever you want is yours.” 

The knight’s face turned a healthy shade of pink. He fell quiet for several moments in thought, then turned with a smile into the heat of Noctis’ palm. “I told you that I came here not for the money, but seeking a prize far more valuable. The prize I seek is to stand proudly at your side. If you’ll have my, my lord, I would pledge my sword and my services to your court.”

“Really?” Blue eyes widened in surprise. It was one thing to fight in a lord’s name in a game like jousting, but to truly pledge his sword to Noctis meant that Ignis was offering his life. A knight’s vow, once taken, could only be broken by death. “Are you sure you want to pledge to  _ me?  _ Things aren’t exactly exciting around here.” 

“But they could be.” Still smiling, Ignis pressed a soft kiss to the curve of his palm. “There’s a power in you, Noctis. Royal blood. You are the one who should be King, but instead you’ve been cast out of your own home.” 

Noct flushed. “W-well, it wasn’t  _ that _ bad….”

“A lesser man would want revenge. Yet instead of violence, you turn to festivals. You invite guests into your home and treat them with the respect you deserve to be shown.” 

If his face could have grown any hotter it might have melted off. “Even when you put it like that….”

“You are a  _ great _ man, Noctis. Born to rule, but not desiring power. You are exactly the kind of benevolent king this land needs. And I would see you restored to glory, should that be the path you choose.” 

The words sunk in slowly, as if through a fog. Noct had always shunned the title of prince, thought of his bloodline as a burden rather than a right. Power, politics, the game of thrones - he had never wanted any part of it, and yet Ignis’ words struck him somehow.  _ The king this land needs _ . He couldn’t deny that Eos had been at war - or on the brink - for far too long. And that the people in charge, like his father, gained from it while the common folk suffered. Could a system like that ever truly be changed? Was what Ignis suggesting even possible? 

He wasn’t sure, not in that moment; but he knew that either way, he wanted Ignis by his side like he’d never wanted anything more in his life. With a smile, he ghosted his thumb over soft, red lips. “you know. I’ve never had my own knight before.” 

There was a flash of amusement, and Ignis smirked. “Then I’d like to be your first. If you’ll accept me.”

“O-of course. Um. You are talking about…?”

“Serving you.”

Noctis blinked. “...In my court…?”

“And anywhere else you like.” 

_ Six above, he’s perfect.  _

Noct laughed as he leaned in and brought their mouths together, a kiss that granted them both the permission they craved. Later, when Ignis was healed and the nobles had all returned home, he would welcome his new knight properly. There would a ceremony, vows, and plenty of other traditions that hardly interested Noct in that moment. He was too focused on the sweet taste of Ignis’ lips, the surprising gentleness with which those hands - hands which were reputed for their deadly skill - stroked back through his hair. Igniting him, drawing him in hard and fast and deep. 

The prince who had turned his back on his name for so long joined hands with the beautiful Knight of Flowers. And the bond that was formed would come to rock the very foundations of the world - and all of the kingdoms which stood upon it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Join me on Tumblr for discussion and world building for this AU! Or just to enjoy more FFXV filth ;D


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